


Shaking

by jasperthewriter



Series: The Relationships of Spralmer [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M, More Fluff, alberts a demiboy as always but it isnt mentioned, literally just cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-02-13 16:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12987837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasperthewriter/pseuds/jasperthewriter
Summary: albert warns race about the cold and tells him to wear a jacket. he doesnt, to prove himself. he freezes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ok i just realized i forgot to write that they r wearing pants but i promise they r i just didnt want to go back and edit it

New York winters are _cold._ Albert DaSilva knows this. Albert DaSilva is wearing a sweatshirt _and_ a jacket and a beanie and gloves and a scarf. And fuzzy socks and boots. Albert DaSilva might not be _warm,_ but he definitely isn’t cold. It’s not like the cold weather came as a surprise to anyone. December had kicked down the door of Manhattan with blustery winds and freezing rain for a solid week. Now the roads and sidewalks were icy and yet, Albert DaSilva still has classes to get to. So he leaves his apartment with plenty of time and a travel mug of coffee and starts walking to class.

 

New York winters are _cold._ Racetrack Higgins does not know this. Racetrack Higgins is wearing a short sleeved shirt and a zip up hoodie. And vans sneakers. Racetrack Higgins is _freezing_ . And maybe he’s trying to prove a point because before Albert had left their apartment that morning he had warned Race how cold it would be. And Race had scoffed. So here he is, trying to walk down the sidewalk without falling over so he can just get to class. Racetrack Higgins is just a little bit of an idiot. Somehow, he makes it to class and suffers through an entire advanced calculus lecture, still shaking. The person sitting next to him passes him a hand warmer from their pocket and offers him a bit of their fuzzy blanket and he almost laughs out loud. _College_ . But the lecture ends and he’s _just_ starting to get warm, but he packs up his bag and braves the cold once more. At least he only has two classes today.

 

Albert’s class time means he gets home a half hour earlier than Race on Thursdays, and usually he just makes something easy for lunch and waits for him to get home but today he just pulls off his jacket, shoes, gloves, and beanie and falls face first onto the couch, barely having enough presence to pull a blanket haphazardly over him before he starts dozing. Not really all the way asleep, but definitely not awake either. He figures he’ll wake up when Race opens the door, loud as always, looking for something to eat and someone to listen to him complain about the aggravating guy in his criminal justice elective. Albert’s always there so what’s one time? He can sleep. It’ll be fine.

 

Race’s hands are shaking so badly he can’t get his keys out of his pocket and it takes him way too many tries to get the key in the lock. He’d knocked, _loudly_ , but either Albert wasn’t home (unlikely) or he was ignoring him (more unlikely, unless he’d left his hair in the drain again) (he didn’t think he had). Once he finally manages to get the door open, he steps inside and shuts the door, leaning back against it and frowning at the kitchen. Usually Albert makes them both lunch on Thursdays, not that he has to, and usually Race would be fine with making food but not _today._ Today of all days, Race does not want to do anything except curl up with one of Albert’s hoodies and about fifteen blankets. And maybe Albert. If he can forgive him for not answering the door. Although that really might be unforgivable. Race starts walking unsteadily to one of the bedrooms, (which ever’s closest, he’s not picky), but he stops once he sees Albert sprawled out on the couch, laying on his back. His fuzzy-sock covered feet are poking out from the end of a blanket that really is only covering his legs, and his (or, no wait, that’s Race’s) sweatshirt is riding up a bit, and his hair is an absolute _mess._ He looks _amazing._ And warm.

 

Race drops his bag on the ground and flops on top of Albert, shoving his ice-cold hands up his sweatshirt and his toes onto his ankles. Albert yelps, although from the cold or the fall onto him, Race doesn’t know, and he just pushes his nose into Albert’s neck and tries to stop shaking.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you-” Albert starts and Race picks his head up and kisses him, sliding his hands around to his back. Albert kisses him back, freeing his hands from the blanket and cupping Race’s face with one hand while the other goes to the small of his back.

“Jesus you’re freezing,” he mutters and Race just looks at him for a moment.

“No sh-shit,” he stutters and Albert laughs quietly, running the fingers of one hand through Race’s hair and pulling him closer with the other.

“Why didn’t you wear a coat, you dork?”

“Because you s-said it was t-too cold to g-go without one,”

“Ah,” Albert nods sagely, “Your fragile masculinity.” Race pulls a hand out from his sweatshirt just to hit Albert’s chest lightly. Albert catches his wrist though, and laces their fingers together. Everything’s quiet for a moment and Race’s teeth stop chattering after a bit. Albert’s fingers on Race’s waist slide just under his shirt, thumb rubbing over his spine softly and Race relaxes just a little more. Albert feels like he might fall asleep again and lets his eyes slip closed, hand stilling on his back. Race makes a soft noise of protest so Albert starts moving his thumb again, and Race smiles sleepily into his neck.

“Do you want to move to the bed?” Albert mumbles after another minute and Race groans,

“Don’t wanna move.”

“Bed would probably be warmer,” Albert points out, and Race grumbles for a minute, until Albert sits up slowly, scooping Race up and standing. He makes a pleased noise and wraps his arms around Albert’s neck as he walks them both into their bedroom. Or, really it’s just his, but he’s got the better bed and they almost always both sleep in his room because of it. Albert dumps Race on the bed and pulls his shoes off of him and lets him pull the blankets over himself, while he goes to the closet and grabs a few extra blankets from his top shelf and covers Race with those too, for good measure, before climbing in himself. Race wraps a leg around him and sticks a hand up his sweatshirt again, and Albert wraps an arm around him. And maybe it’s just past noon on a Thursday in December, but they couldn’t care less, wrapped up in the blankets and each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> part two, as requested! sorry it took me so long

Albert wakes up sometime early on Friday, and somehow he’s ended up wrapped around Race, his back to Albert’s chest, fingers laced together. The sun isn’t up yet, Race is warm, and neither of them have anything they need to do today, so Albert adjusts the covers, kisses the back of Race’s neck lazily, and drifts back to sleep. 

* * *

Race tenses and shifts, moving away from Albert and pulling their fingers apart. Albert rolls to fill the empty space, still half asleep, and as their shoulders brush Race flinches away further, tumbling off the bed. Albert sits up groggily at the thud and looks around blearily.

“Babe?” he asks quietly and Race groans from the floor. Albert leans over the side of the bed and sees Race curled up on the floor

“What ‘re you doing?” he asks, standing and kneeling next to him on the floor, running a hand down his arm and Race frowns slightly at the contact. “Hey,” Albert says, poking him on the cheek, “wake up.” Race doesn’t move. 

“Yeah, you’re lucky you’re light,” Albert grumbles under his breath as he scoops him up and dumps him back on the bed. Albert flops down next to him and yanks the blankets back over them.

“Hot,” Race mumbles, and Albert laughs,

“Yeah I know I am-” he starts, but Race shoves the blankets off of him, frowning,

“ _ Hot _ ,” he mumbles again, and Albert looks down at him,

“It’s like twenty degrees outside,” he says and Race groans, shoving his face into the pillow.

“Hey,” Albert says softly, running his fingers through Races’ hair, “What’s up?” Race doesn’t respond and Albert slides an arm around his waist, holding Race against him, chest to chest. He runs his fingers over Races’ face, tracing his cheekbones, jawline, brow bone. He pauses after a moment, noticing the heat radiating off his forehead. 

“Racer?” he asks softly, “You feelin’ alright?” Race just pulls himself closer to Albert and shakes his head. Albert props himself up on his elbow and strokes Races’ hair out of his face. 

“Head hurts,” Race mumbles and Albert rubs Race’s nose with his thumb repetitively. (Years ago, Race had gotten pneumonia and ended up in the hospital. While he was delirious, he’d told Albert that when he was younger, before he ended up in foster care, his mom used to rub his nose when he got sick and it always made him feel better, and shortly after, Albert had adopted the practice as well) 

“I’m gonna go grab some medicine, okay?” Race reluctantly lets go of Albert and he heads to the bathroom to get the cold medicine and a glass of water. 

“This is what you get for not wearing a jacket yesterday,” he comments as Race sits up to take the medicine. 

“Don’t remind me,” Race groans, “Annoying Guy in criminal justice was  _ insufferable _ about it.” 

“Maybe he was actually worried? It was a pretty dumb move,” Albert comments, and Race grimaces around the taste of the DayQuil. 

“Nah,” he offers no further explanation and Albert watches him down the whole glass of water before going to fill it again. 

When he gets back, Race has lain back down and is shivering under the multitude of blankets Albert had gotten for them yesterday. Race snuggles into Albert as soon as he gets back in bed, yawning. 

“Do you want to sleep more?” Albert asks, carding his fingers through his hair. 

“Mm,” Race says, eyes fluttering closed. Albert shifts, pulling the blankets tighter around Race and kissing his forehead gently, resigning himself to a day spent in bed, holding his sick boyfriend. Well, there are worse things to be doing. 

 

Race sneezes and startles awake. Albert jumps as well, smacking his head on the bedframe and wincing. “Whas’ wrong?” Albert mumbles, reaching out to touch Race’s face. (he misjudges a little, but Race isn’t totally awake yet and if he doesn't notice Al hitting him in the face, then it didn't happen) 

“Sneeze,” Race says, “Loud. Sorry. Love. Night,” he rolls back over and starts snoring again. Albert stares at him for a few seconds, before shaking his head and wrapping an arm around his waist again. “Love you too.” He brushes Races’ hair out of his face and feels his forehead, noting that his fever seems to have broken before Race’s mobile starts ringing. “Shut up,” Albert hisses, rolling out of bed and grabbing the phone. “Hello?” he asks quietly, walking to the kitchen so as not to disturb Race. 

“Racer, you have to get over here, Davey is literally going to kill Jack in about twenty seconds and I need someone to watch the fireworks with,” Crutchie says and Albert kinda really wants to see that, but it’s not like he can just leave Race… can he? He probably shouldn’t. 

“Race is sick, but I’ll put twenty on Dave kicking his ass for him,” he says and Crutchie laughs,

“Alright, tell him I said feel better, okay?” he says and just before Albert hangs up he hears a crash and Jack yelling,

“Hey! No, wait Dave-” 

Albert leaves Race’s phone on the counter in case someone else calls with an update on Jack’s subsequent ass-kicking and grabs another glass of water and more medicine before heading back to the bedroom. 

“Hey Racer,” he says softly, setting the water and bottle on the side table and patting him on the head before walking back over to his side. He grabs his computer from the floor and flicks it on, settling back into bed and pulling up his research paper. Pretty soon, his studying playlist is playing softly as he goes through and edits his paper, putting the final touches on it and spending a few hours on coursework for his various classes. Usually he doesn’t start his homework until right around nine o’clock on Sunday, but he’s got nothing better to do, and the apartment is actually really boring with Race just sleeping. 

 

Eventually, Race stirs, stretching languidly and rolling over. He smiles hazily at Albert and he pauses the music, poking at his face. Race pushes his hand away, grabbing onto Albert and wrapping himself around him. 

“Feeling better?” Albert asks and Race nods sleepily. “Maybe you should try to stay awake then, or else you’ll be up all night,” he says and Race wrinkles his nose.

“No, sleep,” he says petulantly and Albert smiles, turning the music back on and going back to his work, leaving one arm settled around Race’s shoulders. 

* * *

3 AM

_Crash_

"Oh my God, go to SLEEP!" 

"I CAN'T!" 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have an idea for a second chapter bc u kno race is gonna get sick but hmu if u would like that


End file.
